Contract Problems

The big news today out of Brewer camp in Arizona is that Prince Fielder is unhappy with his contract renewal for 2008. As a player with less than 3 years of ML experience, he is at the mercy of the team in terms of salary, and the Brewers deemed Fielder worth just under 700k. I know he is worth more than that, but what are the Brewer's supposed to do, break the bank for a guy who next winter will easily get $10mill or more through arbitration? I am sure Doug Melvin offered some sort of contract to Fielder ala the Rockies locking in Troy Tulowitzki, but SUPER ASSHOLE Scott Boras probably turned it down because he knows the worst thing to do is lock Prince down early.

In GOOD Brewer news, Sheet's looked sharp in his start yesterday. Two innings, 15 pitches, 6 up, 6 down. Sadly, my favorite player will probably walk after this season unless he has a shitty year and no one is interested in signing him. Say what you will about his injuries, but when he pitches, he is BY FAR the best pitcher on our staff.

LaRussa wanted Bonds
Tony LaRussa, in my opinion, may be one of the most intelligent men in baseball. Until I read Men at Work by George Will, I thought managers were nothing more than washed up players who's baseball cards were usually the first ones to end up in the spokes of my Huffy. After reading that book, which followed LaRussa through his daily rigors, I had a new found respect for him and the work managers did. However, an article I read on MLB.com today changed my mind about this man's intelligence. He's not in GW's ballpark yet, but it's in that territory.

"What I've said each of the last two years is that when you're looking for somebody dangerous to hit behind Albert [Pujols], Barry was a guy that I thought," La Russa said.
"And for whatever reason, at the general manager or ownership level, they didn't agree that he would be a guy that they thought we should add. I understand. Organization chart -- they're my bosses. That's exactly what happened."

Now I'm not arguing with his logic. I personally don't think a 45 year old with bad knees, bad attitude and pending federal confinement is the best addition to a team, but LaRussa's right, he probably would give Pujols some protection in the lineup. What I find amazing is that LaRussa is somehow flumoxed that Cards management wouldn't want to sign this pariah to a contract. LaRussa, have you been so busy with community service after your DUI that you failed to notice Bonds is considered public enemy number one? OK, maybe that's Clemens now, but still?

Considering the allegations that LaRussa knew McGwire was juicing and chose not to take any action, he has shown me that he's less about winning through intelligence and more about winning at all costs. He is no different than many Director Sportiff's in the professional cycling world that could care less about the details of how they win, as long as they win. What LaRussa doesn't realize is that if everything I've heard about the St. Louis fans is true, they would rather win with honor, than by signing Barry Bonds. I have a feeling they already feel a little humiliated thanks to McGwire. LaRussa really doesn't get it and needs to retire.

Proof Things Never Change for The Cubbies...

just the culprits. Last year it was Carlos Zambrano and his lame prediction. This year an even more milktoast picther is giving me cause to chuckle. Just when I thought I wouldn't have anything to blog about today, Ryan Dempster of the Cubs gives me blog-fodder.

From MLB.com
Dempster opened Spring Training by predicting the Cubs will win the World Series, and Baltimore's Kevin Millar had a response to that.
"I'm guaranteeing a 2008 World Series," Millar said. "Everybody else is. I'm going on the record right now. We're going to shock the world. I don't know who Dempster is in Chicago but if he thinks he's going to win the World Series, he has to come through us first."
Millar had one more prediction: "I'm going deep off Ryan Dempster."

"I don't know who Dempster is in Chicago." That is AWESOME! Predictions are the lamest things an athlete can do. To borrow from Jim Rome, "No one remembers when they don't come true, and everyone thinks you're a genius when they do." Kewdohs to Millar for, in a satirical way, pointing out this tom-assery. This team barely made the playoffs, only because of the Brewers choke job, then got embarrassed in the playoffs. Now a pitcher who will be as memorable a Cub's pitcher as Terry Adams or Heathcliff Slocumb suddenly thinks they can topple the AL. Dempster, focus on changing yourself from a mediocre closer to a mediocre starter and leave the predictions to the fans.

And in Related News: Cecil Fielder Spokesman for Atkins

Amazing story this morning in the JSO [Milwaukee Journal Sentinal Online] about Prince Fielder. Since this guy came up in '05, he has exceeded my expectations, both on the field and off. The last time the Brewer's had a draft pick so highly touted, he was the rectal cancer known as Gary Sheffield, so I'll admit, I've come to expect very little from any Brewer marked as "the next big thing". However, reading Anthony Witrado's article this morning made me feel guilty for having any skepticism about Prince-- there are very few flaws in this 23 year old. He has the talent where if he played his whole career in Milwaukee (and I doubt he will) he would supplant Robin Yount as the greatest Brewer, he has the character at a young age to be a team leader, he has shown desire to improve his game and to top it all off, I find out he has chosen to become a vegetarian! Apparently his wife gave him book which detailed the mistreatment of animals by the meat industry (no mention of the book's title, but hell the video from that slaughterhouse in SoCal where they used fork lifts to move live cows would be enough for me) and he found it so disgusting that he chose to change his diet. Add to that the way he's focusing on D this spring and he's already shown more dedication in his 3 seasons than his dad probably did in his whole career. I bet the only self sacrifice Cecil ever tried was limiting himself to 2 trips to the MGM/Grand's Buffet, and that was probably just because he had to hustle and get some action down at the sports book.

Now I'm not saying Prince Fielder has gained any more respect from me because he chooses not to eat meat. While I myself dabbled in vegetarianism once, (not in 'Nam of course), I do currently eat meat. To borrow and modify a phrase from Ben Franklin, "I think bratwurst is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy." However, it's pretty interesting to read that a player who's frame more closely resembles the beer barrel logo guy than John Jaha and who plays in a state where having a meal without pork, beef, poultry or fish is about as worthwhile as NA beer, is choosing to subsist on soy, lentils and Boca burgers. My advice Prince, try the Boca bratwurst, they aren't as good as the real thing, but if it's your only option, might as well go with it... kind of like the Devil Rays.

http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=720531

Earlier in the month, I traveled back to my former home of Idaho to revisit some of the wilderness spots that I enjoyed in my almost 7 years of residence there.

While driving into Stanley on a hot Sunday afternoon, I was reminded of just how jaw dropping the Sawtooth Mountains can be. They tend to be spaced in such a way that each one has a distinct and dominant profile. The Wasatch Mountains in my new home obviously eat up the horizon as well, but various peaks and canyons tend to run into eachother as one menacing front, not the individualistic eruption of pink rock and jagged stone that bumps and pushes along the 50 mile Sawtooth Valley. For the first time ever, I approached the range from the west on ID-21 and right past the turn-off for Grandjean, there was a perfectly opened window into the heart of the range. I stopped and tried to identify the summits, but without much bearing, they were just sophisticated wild ass guesses.

In actuality, I hadn't planned on spending anytime in the Sawtooths this trip. My plan was to ride Fisher Creek which is on the east side of the Sawtooth Valley, (technically part of the White Cloud Range) then make my way south to the Pioneer mountains and a third attempt at climbing Hyndman Peak, the 12,009' mountain that can be gained in one long day of hiking. However, that afternoon on Fisher Creek I began to reconsider leaving the valley that night.

In early September of last year, the Valley Road fire burned about 41,000 acres in and around Fisher Creek. [For info on this fire, I found a great article at http://www.forwolves.org/ralph/valley-road-forestfire.htm] I knew this, (I was actually hiking up to Alice Lake with a friend on the opposite side of the valley and saw the plume of smoke build throughout the day) but as I rode the gravel jeep road that leads back to the downhill portion of the trail, I saw little evidence of the fire. They had fought hard to protect this area since there were about a dozen cabins within the first few miles of riding, but about 2 miles from the highway, I began to see patches of burnt land and black naked trees. Then, about 6 miles from the valley, the full force of the fire was evident. In this section, nothing escaped, and as I reached the top of the first climb, and got a perspective of the surroundings, I saw used matchsticks poking up over countless hills and drainages. Views that were normally limited due to thick folliage were now almost clear. Washington, Blackman and other peaks of the White Clouds were easily visible through the barcode forest. The threat of rain and the fact that I have countless pictures of Fisher Creek were reasons why I left the camera in the car. But after seeing this devistation, I felt like I was visiting this place for the first time.

The best I can describe the first mile and a half of descent is frightening. You could see where you were in relation to the landscape for the first time. All of the drainages and low levels of the trail were visible. The intrusion of being in the wreckage made me feel guilty. I could barely focus on my ride. I could see all the contours of the land and the consequences of slipping off the narrow, side hill trail that weaved and wound around the tops of these sandy and rocky hills. I felt like a tourist going to a crash site, taking a bus tour of Katrina devestated New Orleans. I questioned wether I should be there? Am I doing more damage to the trail? I finished that first section of descent feeling pretty bummed. It was my first time riding the trail since I crashed and tore up my knee in June of '05. 2005 was the first time since 2000 that I hadn't ridden Fisher Creek during a season. I wanted to blame the fire for my cautiousness, but I knew the texture of the trail was always loose and dicey. I began to feel the effects of bonking during the middle climb section, 2 miles through a meadow and gradual single track climbing. This is where I would usually turn it on, a good section of grinding before the tastiest 3 miles of descent you will find anywhere, but I was feeling burnt, like everything around me. It was depressing to ride in this. I ate a granola bar at the top of a short pitch right before you drop into the roller coaster and felt a little better. As I began the descent, the adrenaline got to me, the trail was more forgiving here and as I left the burnt areas, the forest began to look familiar again. I realized I had to come back and ride this again, not in the near future, but in the next few days. The trail sent me a message through the destruction that the "path" was still here, and I could find my way through it even though everything around me seemed so drastically different. My bike, my legs, my mountain bike chi seemed to just begin warming up and it seemed like a shame to piss that away now. As dissapointing as this man made fire was to me and the pride I felt in what I thought was one of the best trails you will ride anywhere, it was a reminder of "annica", the Buddhist term for change. I had changed in the last year, drastically, when the "Melon Valley Incident" sat me on my ass for most of the summer and took me closer to death than I had ever been. I fancied myself a good, (not great), but pretty good recreational cyclist before that crash. But since then, I didn't have the balls, the legs or even the drive to rack mile after mile in the saddle. That was somewhat depressing, but not necessarily bad. I came through it all right, just like Fisher Creek came through the Valley Road Fire all right.

When I started that days ride by heading down ID 75 to Fisher Creek road, I passed the old, non-operative Chevron / International Real Estate buildings that were the sole structures of "Obsidian". Had it not been for the sign declaring it, you wouldn't have known this was actually a town. The dilapitated buildings always made me laugh because the thought that there was anything "International" about this one room log cabin real estate office seemed rediculous. It looked like it had been built when mining was still a valid means of income here. The gas station never was open in my memory, and the tiny lodge near it seemed like a relic from the past like in the same category as the mining ghost towns in the area. Yet, I was shocked to see the buildings refurbished without losing their original charm and a few out-of-towners actually parked and staying at the 3 or 4 room lodge. There were even pay-showers outside the gas station. It was about time I figured. A service station within 1 mile of the best mountain biking trailhead in Idaho seemed like a no-brainer now. Stanley was still 15 miles to the north, and for those driving up from Ketchum to the south, it made more sense to stop here, rinse the salt off and grab a cold six for the night than make the journey out of the way to Stanley or to Smiley Creek Lodge just before Galena Pass. I gladly took a $2.25 shower, which was much nicer than the bacteria laden stalls at Redfish Lake Campground and bought an $8.99 six of Ruby Mountain (it's still WAY off the beaten path, so everything is "resort priced") and made my way to Alturas Lake, at the south end of the Sawtooths. Redfish is "the" destination for most campers, and even though it was a weekday, I doubted I could find anything. Alturas was my first cmaping experience in the Sawtooths, back in '99 during a cold night in September with some friends with work. After that, I began spending more and more vacation time in this valley, which was easy when I lived 150 miles away, but now that it was 400 miles away, I was going to take advantage while I could.

My ears are filled with the sounds of Widespread Panic. I'm listening to the concert I went to a little over a week ago in Jackson. Last night I saw they finally posted the concert for download on widespreadpanic.com and for $10.95, I can finally take a listen to a musical snapshot of a great night of music I had. I've bought live recordings from Rush tours I've seen, where the setlist hasn't changed from venue to venue, but this is the first time I've been able to listen to the actual show as I heard it. Pretty cool. Deffinitely a better value at $10.95 than going out and spending $16 on one of their studio albums.

Today, I unexpectedly had contact with someone whose attention I'd love to get a little more of. I tired my best to be charming, which usually results in damn goofiness more than charm, but I guess it's better for a woman to see the genuine craziness of my personality than the reserved, "What do I do next?" persona that I usually have. Actually, I guess if I had one lesson from tonight, is that I should act that way more often, since silliness is a good thing and more often than not, I will tend to walk out of work bitter and focused rather than shrugging and forward thinking. Silliness is a virtue, and I have to remember that now that I am no longer in an official management position, I can temper some of my leadership with goofiness. And as my best friend tells me, being yourself is still the best way to find acceptance with people. So here's to slowly trying to break out of my shell of focused, intense, self discrimination and moving more towards perceived weirdness.

The great thing about living in a large city, (even if it is Salt Lake) is the opportunities for culture. In my old home of Twin Falls, Idaho, culture was sitting on the canyon rim with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon after a dinner at Outback Steakhouse. Tonight, I was able to go downtown to see one of the legends of Bluegrass, Earl Scruggs, play at the Gallivan Center's free Twilight Concert Series. Yes I went alone. Yes it was worth it. They finished with Foggy Mountain Breakdown (what else COULD he finish with) and I felt chills. I can break down my live musical experiences into two categories. Shows that meant alot to me, and shows that would mean alot to ANYONE because you knew you were seeing a legend. The latter was the case tonight. Yes, I saw Widespread Panic a week ago and it was incredible, but when you go up to Joe Green Jello and tell him that, he won't give a fuck. However, certain artists you see and know that you are lucky to have seen them. Bob Dylan falls into this category. And now he has been joined by Earl Scruggs. Many people don't know his name, but it won't take much to realize that he is the last remaining legend of a musical artform that, let's face it, could go the way of polka. I can't understand why all these fringe musical styles like bluegrass, flamenco, folk, blues have all found their way into the fusion of pop music, yet Polka can't buy a piece? But I digress, back to the show. At 82 years old, I knew that this man was a link to previous Bluegrass legends like Bill Monroe and Lester Flatt. They are gone, but Earl Scruggs is still around, and his brand of music should mean something to every fan of good music everywhere.

The pic below was another taken via the timer on my first excursion to the Uinta Mountains in Utah. I felt a little guilty about it. In my time in Idaho, the Sawtooth Mountains had become my sanctuary, my "fortress of solitude". However, now that I'm in Utah, I figured it was impractical to have a escape route that required 6 hours of driving, so I decided to try something more local.

It was the Wednesday after Memorial Day, so I figured there would be some people up there, but not a lot considering that area got snow most of the holiday weekend. Turns out the place was completely empty. The camp hosts told me I was the only one in the whole drainage. Where I was "exactly" was the Yellowstone River area on the South side of the range, 20 miles north of Duchesne. I actually planned on heading to the northern side and hopefully getting a view of Kings Peak (the highest point in Utah) but a road closure due to snow changed the scenic route I was going to take to get there. I planned on taking 150 north from Kamas and finding a route along the range, but after reaching the pass and seeing UDOT vehicles blocking the road for plowing, I figured I had to durn around. Rather than go back around to Park City and then up to Evanston, I stayed on the southern side and took UT 35 across. Passing oil rigs and red stone, it was a little different than I expected, and I never really got the jaw dropping view of the summits that you get on ID 75 on your way to Stanley. In fact, most of the drive reminded me of the more subtle rolling hills of the Rock Creek Foothills near Twin Falls. Elevation, it was much higher than any developed campt site I've been to (8,200') but the major summits I did see were rounded off and bare. In my opinion, even the Wasatch are more impressive. A good mountain spot though can't be judged on impressiveness alone. There is the people factor. That's where the Wasatch lose out. When you are right on the edge of a metropolitan area of 1.5 million people, the nooks and crannies are going to be filled with people looking to "escape to nature" and that's fine, however, it makes to truly secluded spots like the Sawtooth Wilderness Area in Idaho that much better, which is why if I had my choice, I would live in Idaho and work in Salt Lake, if that makes any sense.

"Just sittin' here, watchin' the river flow." 

George Bush was in Idaho this week. I knew I felt a disturbance in the force. About the only thing that the conservative majority of Idaho has ever criticzed that man for was not visiting the "Great State of Idaho". (Yes, Idaho is a great state, but I HATE IT when politicians use that prefix when referring to their constituency. It's like a band in concert referring to the host city in a song; it's a cheap reaction.) If you want a man who is busy with 5 week vacations, sending America's youth off to die and snowing the American public into thinking it's our duty to force democracy on others (prime directive mean anything to ya Bush?) to visit your state, try not blindly voting for whoever has "Republican" listed under their name.

He was here to do some mountain biking. This I want to see. Not because I don't believe it, just because I want to see it. You see, when politicians talk about skiing or cycling or any other hobby they partake in, it's always interesting to see what level they are at. Most of the time, they are at a pretty low level, and that's expected since they have more important stuff to do than drive to Stanley for a weekend and plant secret service all over Fisher Creek. But I was mildly surprised when I saw video of John Kerry snowboarding in SV. He didn't look like a first timer, although I'm sure, like everything a politician does, there is a hope that images of recreation act as subliminal cues to make participants in that activity "identify" with you. Now, I was a Kerry fan to begin with, and I would never vote for someone because they snowboard, or ski or mountain bike, but yes, those pictures of him carving turns down Warm Springs, a run I have skied numerous times myself, made me feel like this was a person I like as well as respect.

So Bush, I invite you, to gain a little of my "like" (you'll probably never get respect) and come mountain biking with me. No camera's, no politics, a free pass for you to spend some saddle time with a mountain biker (I'll u-bolt the flaming liberal to a tree for the duration of our ride) and we can both enjoy an escape from reality. And it won't take 5 weeks.

I'm starting it again, and my guarantee to you, the reader is that I will work my ass off to see that you have access to as much of my trite ramblings as I can muster.

As Otis is singing right now, "You don't miss your water 'till your well runs dry." That's the case for the last 52 days as I've been dealing with the bike crash that ruined 2005 (see evidence on left).

The good news is that the wound has closed and I can begin to ride again. The bad news is that I developed a blood clot while my leg was immobile and due to vein damage and swelling my calves are now horribly mismatched. (Imagine bad Vito Corleone impression)"Look what they did to my little boy!" Mild pain will be a part of my left leg for the near future, but thankfully I have support hose to help me in activity. I have enough people in Idaho thinking I'm gay that I don't need panty hose on top of it. The hardest part is finding a garter belt that fits and is stylish at the same time.

Anti-coagulants will force me to avoid any risky situations like racing and rock climbing and restrict my S&M activities to light bondage and tickling. Oh well, all that leather wear was getting expensive anyway. The thing with blood thinners is that their effect can be compounded by excessive alcohol. I kind of knew this, but after a trip to Wisconsin, they tested my blood and apparently it was thinner than a whisky and water at a $20 cover strip club. But what am I supposed to do? Going to Wisconsin and not drinking is like going to Disney World and getting your picture with that Friar Tuck dog thing from Robin Hood instead of Mickey. So anyway, my blood is too thin, which made me wonder, why am I shelling out $10 for a months supply for blood thinners when apparently a couple of cases of PBR/week will do just fine. I guess those would be perscriptions in the Mason City Hospital where nurses looked like Darryl Hannah in Kill Bill and every needle came with a shot of Jack.

Shake the Dew From the Lilly, Randy
As a Packer fan (albeit a fair weather Packer fan) I feel it my obligation to speak about Sunday's debacle. Keep in mind, I still have minor Schadenfreud (perverse pleasure in someone elses failure) for the Packers since they steal attention away from the Brewers... perhaps deservedly so.

First of all, I have never felt more guilty about my pessimism than I did after that loss. I am the little black rain cloud when it comes to the '04 Packers. All week I was playing it safe, saying that even though many in the national media had the Pack dismissing the Vi-Queens easily, I couldn't help but think that the ladies in Purple could win this one. I don't know how many times I heard, "Lambeau Field" used as the main reason why the Pack would win. Guess what, Green Bay was 4-4 at Lambeau this season. .500 at home is hardly worthy of the great John Facenda's "FROZEN TUNDRA OF LAMBEAU FIELD" introduction. Then I heard that the Packer's had the Vikings number this season. Well, if that number was 6 (the amount we beat them buy total in 2 games). Let's face it, in football, luck can play a big role in the closing seconds of a game, and both wins were on last minute field goals. Then there was the "Randy Moss as a negative to the team" factor. I wasn't buying that either. Fact is, the guy is still a talent and if he has a big day, forget it. He may look like Buckwheat and he may make Terrell Owens seem like a model citizen, but you can't deny he has game.

Well, turns out I was right... and I couldn't feel worse for it. Mainly because many of my friends know much more about this team and more about football in general and they all seem to have blind faith in the Pack. Yet here I am, doubting Thomas, saying the sky is falling and even though I turned out to be right, I realized that even if I was wrong, more than likely no one would call me on it since they would all be too happy they won. So considering that, I am wondering if I should be a more positive person... BULLSHIT. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. Still sounds good to me. It was like my friend who before the season said, "Bears. There's two wins there." I wasn't so sure and reminded him of the years when as mediocre as we were, we sometimes managed to eek one out against the Bears. Remember the Majkowski over the line game at soldier? Tell me Ditka didn't smile when Favre threw that TD pass 10 yards past the line. Anyway, I wasn't writing the bears off, and guess what, they punked us at home... way to go Mase.

I should add something on Randy Moss' end zone shennanigans. First off, I have never liked end zone celebrations, but I hardly think what he did was the end of the world. He was excited because he was winning and all though it wasn't the classiest thing to do, how many of us have ever taken a bit of glee of rubbing someones face in it. I think we all have at some point. Compare this to what Jake Plummer did and I wonder why we are even bothered by this. Plummer failed and in a moment of bitterness, showed his contempt for his own fans. Moss succeeded in face of a hostile environment and in my opinion, deserves a touch more slack. Sure, I don't like a Viking wiping his ass on Lambeaus goal post, but if you don't want that to happen... STOP HIM.

In closing, I'll say that after seeing that end zone celebration, we are not long for a player holding the ball in front of his hips as if peeing, shaking the "dew from the lilly" and zipping up. As tasteless as it is, you got to admit, it would feel good to be in the situation where you could do it. In front of 60,000 people that are cheering for you to fail... to the victor go the spoils.

Barking Spider came and went this weekend and unlike last year when I was cursing my bike, my physical fitness and some of the riders, this year was a delight. Interesting how much can happen in a year. I still had to dismount on a few climbs but mainly due to other riders. The big deal was the dude I passed on slow climb to the summit that breezed past me on a short narrow pitch right before the descent through the rock. Obviously he didn't want to get stuck behind anyone on a section where passing was difficult, but it was a gutsy move and I give him credit for it. For the record I finished 10th about 10 minutes behind the winner in my classification.

So April comes to a close with one of the best months of riding I've ever had to start a season. I should have 500 miles under my belt by May 1st and the mountain biking has been mixed in more liberally than in springs past. I hope this will lead to some more adventurous riding in the area so I can experience more of what the region has to offer. With the way gas prices are, I'm not sure I'll be doing much venturing to Moab, Salt Lake or Tahoe for riding excursions, but I think I should have plenty to work with her and I still have plans to publish what I do and document for the future.

Training... Sort Of
21 days until the Barking Spider Mountain Bike race in beautiful Owyhee County Idaho. For those of you unfamiliar with my fantasies of being an actual athlete, last year I entered this race as my first organized race on a bike of any kind. I came in second to last in the "beginner" classification and in the two subsequent races I attempted, I came in last. I don't harbor any hopes of being an athlete of the professional level, but I would like to think that I could focus my energy on improving my abilities on a bike. After all, cycling is about all I do regularly other than work, drink beer and struggle learning the "Devil's Tongue". And of those things, cycling is really the only thing I can be proud of, so I might as well try to do it well.

This weekend I decided to eschew the skiing for the season and took my girls out in the beautiful Southern Idaho spring as a sort of training. Saturday, Maria (named after Robert Jordan's love in "For Whom the Bell Tolls") and I went out to Indian Springs to take another stab at Rock Garden, the hazardous, crooked mile up to Sugarloaf over mostly large, volcanic rock that protrudes from the ground like ribbon candy in your grandmother's candy dish. The ride challenged my technical skills, and gave me a few moments of challenging, single track climbing, but I still need to train somewhere with steep, 1/4 mile jeep road climbs that sap the power from your legs and test your balance. You know the kind, no switch backs, no ease in pitch, just a constant struggle over a sandy, rutted road that has loose rock peppered along it to skid your rear tire as you jerk on the handle bars fighting the urge to veer off course. That's what killed me on Barking Spider last year, falling in with the pack up that first climb and battling for position amongst countless "bailers". Had I my choice of lines, I could have made it but that is not an excuse. This year, unless I find out differently in a recon ride, I'm going to red line the granny gear until that first climb and hope I can summit in the front of the pack.

OW!
Why is it as soon as I get myself into shape I get some problem with my foot that might sideline me and send my weight back up? I feel fat already because I'm wondering how long until I ride again. The only think I hate more than being sidelined with an injury is seeing a doctor. I'm limping around the station, watching Judging Amy, wondering how I can keep from jumping off a bridge if I don't ride 5 days a week. My rides are the only thing that keep me sane and I'm afraid some doctor is going to make me... ah hell, maybe I should just pray it's cancer and hope for a quick death.

Soda cans, the hidden killer
I didn't ride today, I don't feel like studying and it's too hot to read (if that's an excuse). So I'm going to blog for the first time in a while, even though I have blogged a few times in the past but thanks to errors they weren't posted.

The big event for the past few days has been a "mystery" pain in my foot. It doesn't hurt when I pedal, but it's enough to make me ease my riding pace this week after a hard week in the saddle. I'm trying to narrow the cause down, and the most logical seems to be stomping on aluminum cans in sandles. I haven't jogged in a week and unless my pedal cleats are mis-aligned and have caused cummulative damage, I don't see how it could be anything else. Yesterday I was ready to go to a doctor about it, but after my ride, my foot actually felt better and today's pain was minimal and short lived, so it seems to be a bruise of some sort that will eventually heal itself. You always read about athletes getting stupid injuries like pulled rib muscles from sneezing or cut fingers from yard work, and now I have my own stupid injury. So kids, make sure you are wearing proper footwear when smashing cans.

Oh damn, Chinese buffet. For Chinese food I need to stop eating at buffets. The problem is that in Twin Falls, there are no decent Chinese restaurants. So I figure, if I'm going to eat mediocre Chinese food, I might as well eat a lot of it. My roomate and I went to New China Buffet tonight and that should take care of us for the next two months. The great thing about New China is that A) there are more than enough plates at the buffet lines and B) when you need a soda, they bring you one. Two things that the Golden Corral could take a lesson from. What are they trying to do over there, control the flow of buffet action by dispersing plates so infrequently and refilling soda once... tops. Hey, it's a frickin all you can eat buffet, why are you being so stingy on the pop when the cost is practically all mark up?

I've been reminded over the last two weeks how beautiful a sport professional cycling is. Since most of you are probably unaware that people even watch this sport, let alone that certain events are carried on on TV, I'll give you a quick note on what I'm talking about. The Outdoor Life Network (not a hugely poplar channel) has become my favorite channel because it does something incomprehensible to most cycling fans, it carries each of the three major European stage races live; The Giro d'Italia, The Tour de France and the Vuelta a Espana. So while I used to make a ritual of listening to Brewer games on the radio, now my sports routine is to get up at 730am and watch the best cyclists in the world. It's easy to think bicycle racing is nothing more than riding as fast as you can, but once OLN started showing live action of the Tour (as opposed to ESPN's pre-packaged hilite reel) I saw how much goes into it, it's actually a team sport with races within races. What makes the sport that much better for me is that I can cheer for a champion, Lance Armstrong. For those of you familiar with the success of my favorites in conventional team sports, you know how big a deal that is for me. To top it off, this July may see one of the most competitve tours in 4 years as Lance faces what may be his biggest challenge, a fellow American, former teammate and winner of two major races already this year, Tyler Hamilton. How much would that piss off the French.

A note about below. I tried cutting and pasting the title of this entry from my Japanese Word Processor and it didn't turn out so well. It ended up being Cyrillic like. My apology.

“ú–{Œê•×‹­‚·‚邱‚Æ
(nihongo benkyo suru koto)

I didn't realize how f#$%ed up a language English was until I started studying Japanese. And that's because Japanese is probably #2 in terms of f&^#ed up language, but at least there seems to be a method to it. When they were inventing English, they were smoking some heavy duty pipeweed me thinks.

I've been preparing for my Japanese Final all weekend and I actually feel prepared for it. I'm not cramming or sweating because I think I actually paced myself well this semester in terms of studying. However, if I had taken this class in college, I would have withdrawn somewhere around the first test. My four years in college were great, wouldn't trade them for anything, BUT, I would go back and perhaps try to retain more of what I was taught IN CLASS. Don't get me wrong, college taught me a damn lot BUT, considering what was being offered there, I could have done more than spend 30 hours per week in the college run TV station as opposed to maybe 8 hours per week studying. I hate to have regrets, but I'm soooo good at it. I've realized now, that learning is the single greatest thing a person can do. I would much rather go to school and study Japanese than go to work, but I didn't realize that then. The irony is, if I had spent more time studying in college and less time at the TV station, I may not have a job now. So go figure that one out.